Page 24 of Venom (St. Sebastian’s at Cravenmoor Academy #1)

My response is to lift my chin even higher.

His eyes narrow, and he crosses over to the drawers. He yanks one open and pulls out a sinfully sharp knife. He snatches up the dress and rips into it, slicing it to shreds. “He doesn’t get to dress you. Why did you bring this?”

“I don’t know. I was panic packing.”

“Where is he?”

I don’t reply. His gaze bores into mine. “I don’t know.”

He either accepts it, or more likely, chooses his battles, and this isn’t one he wants to fight right now. He gathers up the torn fabric and bins it before he turns back to the wardrobe. “Any other clothes in here that need to be shredded?”

“No.”

He reaches in and pulls out a white dress that shows off my assets in the best possible way. “How attached are you to this?”

“Why?”

“White stains.”

I grin, the last few minutes melting away. “I bought that to replace a white dress that even bleach couldn’t save.”

His mouth quirks into that half-smile that undoes me.

It’s a flash of approval, a dark glint in his eyes that acknowledges the violence in my past and finds it appealing.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sinks into my bones.

He tosses the dress onto the bed. It lands on the covers, a stark, pristine white against the blood-red velvet. An invitation. A sacrifice.

“Put it on,” he orders.

I move towards the bed, my body still humming with the aftershocks of our confrontation.

My skin is hypersensitive, my nerves frayed.

I feel his gaze on me, a physical weight, as I pick up the soft fabric.

It’s a simple dress, but the way it’s cut, it will cling to every curve, the thin material hiding nothing.

He doesn’t move from his spot, just watches, a predator observing his prey. I turn my back to him, a futile attempt at privacy, and slip the dress over my head. The material slides over my still-damp skin, cool and soft.

When I turn back to face him, his eyes are dark with a raw, possessive hunger that makes my pussy clench. The cold, controlled monster is gone, replaced entirely by the beast.

“Perfect.” He tears his gaze from me and lifts the toolbox, flipping the lid open.

He reaches in, knowing already what he is aiming for.

He pulls out a thin blade in a thigh holster and crosses over to me.

He falls to his knees, and I slide the dress further up my thighs.

He fastens the holster around my thigh, his movements sure and steady.

His knuckles brush against my inner thigh as he pulls the strap tight, and a jolt of pure, unadulterated lust shoots through me.

He’s on his knees, but this is no act of supplication.

This is an act of possession. He’s not just dressing me; he’s arming me.

The weight of the blade is a familiar comfort, a silent promise of the violence to come. He knows this part of me. The part that finds solace in the cold, hard steel of a weapon.

“How far are you willing to let this play out?” he asks.

“As far as it takes.”

“Let him get you on your own. Make the first move. Slip my leash.”

What?

This flies against everything I thought I’d figured out about him.

He rises to his feet, a towering, naked god of war, his eyes burning with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs.

“They won’t make a move if I’m breathing down your neck.

The weasel needs to think this arrangement is weak.

He needs to think he’s won. He needs to see that you can get away from me.

” He reaches out, curling my wet hair behind my ear.

“But the wolf is never far from his lamb.”

“You want me to ditch you and flirt with him?” I ask, licking my lips.

His lips curve up into that sinister half-smile.

“Do more than flirt with him, wildcat. Seduce him. Put him on the back foot. He won’t expect it.

We are going to start a rumour, if it hasn’t flown the coop already after the locker room, that you are looking for a good time with any and every guy going. Play right into Ana’s hands.”

“You’re starting to think like Blake.”

He sneers. “The kid has some good ideas.”

“And what will you be doing while I’m cosying up to Maddox?”

“Giving you ammo for a later date.”

I glare at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m going to give Ana a chance to show me what she’s got.”

White-hot rage flares behind my eyes. “Oh no, you fucking aren’t! You aren’t touching that whore with a barge pole!”

He chuckles. “I have no intention of touching her. But I need you to think she has, so you can remove her from the board at a later date. She is a problem, she is going to become a bigger problem after her welcome hazing goes tits up, but I don’t hurt women.”

“You just set them up so someone else can take them out. Your entire plan hinges on the fact that I’m supposed to care.”

“Wanna hand me that barge pole or what?”

I clench my jaw. How dare he use my own jealousy against me?

“It’s a sound plan,” he says, his voice a low, infuriatingly calm rumble. “Unless you don’t think you can handle it.”

The challenge is a splash of petrol on an already raging fire. “I can handle anything,” I spit, my voice dripping with venom.

He closes the distance between us, his naked body a wall of heat that makes the air crackle.

He cups my jaw, his thumb stroking over my skin, a shockingly gentle gesture that is completely at odds with the cold calculation in his eyes.

“You show them that anyone who disrespects you, anyone who even looks at what’s yours, gets annihilated.

You wanted to make a statement? I’m giving you a fucking exclamation mark. ”

My breath catches, trapped in my throat. He’s right. The bastard is completely, infuriatingly right. This isn’t just about his control; it’s about solidifying mine. “You are not mine.”

A slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face, and he grips my hand, bringing it to his raging hard-on. “You sure about that?”